


Intergenerational Women's Studies

by Raj_Sound



Series: Intro to Community Fanfiction [5]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26498524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raj_Sound/pseuds/Raj_Sound
Summary: The Edisons and soon-to-be Wingers attempt family therapy with Duncan and Britta. The others play a B plot board game.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Jeff Winger
Series: Intro to Community Fanfiction [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884427
Comments: 86
Kudos: 103





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place on November 27th, 2013.

It is downright unnerving how similar Annie looks to her mother. They truly look more like sisters than mother and daughter. Annie can easily pass for a woman a decade older than she is, especially in a smart blazer and heels and Ruth looks at least about a decade younger than she is, dated style sensibilities notwithstanding. If this was a TV show, both of them would no doubt be played by the same actress using camera tricks, age makeup, and post-production editing, a fact Abed unhelpfully pointed out during their first encounter.

Annie and Jeff sit awkwardly together on the couch on one side of Ian Duncan’s office. Ruth Edison and her son Anthony, who looks more like a lumberjack than Annie’s eighteen-year-old brother, sit in a pair of chairs on the other side of the office. Professor Duncan sits between them at his desk and Britta sits in a folding chair behind him for reasons best known to her.

Last week was the first time Annie spoke to her mother since high school. Technically they’ve been in the same room for the occasional extended family gathering, but they haven’t spoken or even so much as acknowledged one another’s existence for almost five years.

So yeah, it’s weird. Each occupant of the room looks at the others, as if daring each other to be the first to speak. Eventually, Ruth decides to take the initiative. “Honestly Annie, is this really necessary?” she asks, as if _family therapy_ is the biggest inconvenience in the world and Annie is being a petulant brat for requesting that she participate in it.

“You agreed to this Mom,” Annie replies coldly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Why do I have to be here?” Anthony asks. His voice is low, dry, and nasally, and he speaks slowly, as if talking takes more effort than he’s interested in putting forward.

“Because we are a family and we are going to settle this as a family,” Ruth replies firmly. She turns to Jeff, her eyes narrowing on him. “Why are you here? Are you one of Annie’s teachers?” She knows exactly who he is of course, but putting one’s adversary on the defensive from the beginning is a good way to probe for weakness.

“Hi. Sorry, in all the craziness, I never introduced myself,” Jeff replies with patented Jeff Winger charm. “I’m Jeff. Jeff Winger.” He offers his hand which Ruth takes and shakes with a polite, but cold smile.

“Jeff is my fiancé,” Annie adds. Again, Ruth knows this, but Annie nevertheless feels compelled to justify her life choices to her mother for reasons that will probably take years of therapy to explore.

“Oh, Annie. I know your father hasn’t been present in your life since you were a child, but did you really need to go and find a replacement?” Ruth asks shrewdly. It’s petty and a tad cruel, but sometimes a parent must be cruel to be kind in order to make stubborn child see reason.

“Okay,” Annie snaps, standing up to leave. Jeff dutifully stands up with her. “It was good to see you Mom. Let’s try this again in five years.”

“Annie, please sit down,” Duncan interjects. Annie reluctantly complies. Jeff joins back on the couch. He offers his hand, which she takes gratefully, glad for the comfort it offers.

“Now, I know this must feel a bit awkward for everyone. But if we can…” Duncan trails off as he discretely reads from the pamphlet in front of him, “…agree to talk and establish ground rules, take turns explaining our thoughts and feelings, identify the conflict, take turns in exploring options to resolve it, agree on a solution, then state and evaluate it, I think we’ll be on our way to working out the issues between the two of you.”

“Were you reading from a script?” Ruth asks wryly. Jeff silently laments the fact that you get what you pay for with free therapy.

“No…” Duncan lies unconvincingly.

“Well, it’s good to know that we’re all in such capable hands,” the elder Edison replies sarcastically. “And why is she here?” she asks, gesturing to Britta. 

“Britta’s my friend. She has every right to be here,” Annie says, wishing she didn’t sound so defensive. She also wishes she knew why Britta is here. She hopes it’s for a good reason, but she wouldn't bet on it. “Um, why are you here Britta?”

“Duncan said I could observe,” Britta says way too eagerly. “I mean, I am here for moral support.” The correction is unsuccessful.

“We are still getting drinks later, right?” Duncan asks Britta. Jeff stifles a groan.

“Of course. To discuss my thesis,” Britta clarifies. Annie suppresses a huff.

“Of course.”

“Wow. Congratulations Duncan,” Jeff retorts, deeply irritated at the fact that the drunken English git is using a family therapy session as a way to set conditions for getting into Britta’s pants. “You managed to dethrone Britta. You are the worst.”

“Will all of your friends be joining us today?” Ruth asks. “Should I expect the autistic fellow and his overly emotional boyfriend to make an appearance?”

Duncan breaks into obnoxious laughter. For like, way too long. It wasn’t that funny. “I’m sorry. So sorry. That was really unprofessional,” he croaks. “But you’ve got to admit, that was spot on.”

* * *

_Get me some rope_

_Tie me to dream_

_Give me the hope_

_to run out of steam_

_Somebody said_

_it could be here_

_We could be roped up, tied up, dead in a year_

_I can't count the reasons I should stay_

_One by one they all just fade away_


	2. Act 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth doesn't pull any punches. Frankie tries to lead in Annie's absence.

Family therapy is like defusing a bomb. Jeff has never defused a bomb before, but he’s seen it done in enough movies to imagine that it is incredibly stressful. Annie sits next to him, silently fuming. Ruth has a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t match her cold, calculating gaze. Anthony is still basically unreadable and both Britta and Duncan appear to be looking for the nearest fire exit.

Eventually, Duncan tries to regain control of the room. “Alright, well we’re all here and we’re talking, so why don’t we start by establishing some ground rules?” he asks.

“Such as?” Jeff prods.

Duncan blanches for a second, as though he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Ah. Here’s an easy one,” he says finally. “Only one person speaks at a time. Agreed?”

The six people in the room mutter indistinctly in agreement.

“Ooh, I’ve got one,” Britta chimes in. “Everyone must practice ‘active listening.’”

“Wonderful suggestion Britta. Truly brilliant. You really are nailing this,” Duncan beams. “Why don’t you explain what ‘active listening’ is?”

“Wow. Laying it on a little thick there Duncan?” Jeff quips. “Shouldn’t you buy her a drink first?”

“Okay. Third rule. No sarcasm,” Duncan snaps.

“Great idea. I’m sure that will go really well,” Jeff replies sarcastically.

“Jeff!” Annie scolds him for literally breaking a rule as soon as it was created.

“Sorry.”

“I’ve got one,” Annie declares. “No dominating the conversation or interruptions or taking sides or condescension or manipulation or guilt or veiled references or…”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there,” Duncan interjects. “That’s like, seven rules.”

“I’d like to propose a rule if I may?” Ruth says. “This is a family matter, so I would like to ask that only family be present.”

“I’m marrying Jeff. And Britta is like a sister to me. They’re family,” Annie insists.

Britta is touched. “Awww, Annie!” she squeals happily.

“It just seems a bit crowded in here is all. But if you need your boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend to be present in order to talk to me, I’m sure I can manage.”

“Now you see, that’s what we call passive-aggression, and we should try to avoid that,” Duncan explains, as if Ruth doesn’t know exactly what she is doing.

“I have a rule. If we decide that this is too much, or if it’s not worth it, we reserve the right to walk away,” Jeff says firmly. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Annie nods.

“Very well,” Ruth says carefully.

“Brilliant. Well, now that we’ve established some ground rules, let’s take some time, one at a time, to talk about our thoughts and feelings,” Duncan explains. At least this time he managed to recite this speech from memory. “We want to use ‘I feel’ statements. That way we make sure that we’re talking about ourselves and not about each other.”

“Shall I start?” Ruth says. Her smile is shark-like.

“Very well. Remember to say ‘I feel.’”

“Excellent,” Ruth begins. She clears her throat in a demure, but performative manner. “I feel that my daughter injured herself in a performative tantrum at an ill-advised social gathering of high school delinquents, then continued said tantrum by dropping out of school and going to _rehab_ over nothing more than a slight over-reliance on some focus-enhancing medication.” Jeff feels Annie’s fingers gripping his own like her life depends on it. “I feel she has spent the last five years of her life wasting her potential at a community college with such abysmally low standards it has an anus on its flag. Last but not least, I _feel_ my daughter is about to waste what remains of her youth by marrying a man twice her age with no realistic career prospects of his own who will no doubt get her pregnant and then abandon her for a younger, prettier model at the first opportunity. Did I do it right?”

Duncan winces. “Technically…”

“Wow,” Annie says thickly. She doesn’t cry. She wants to, but she doesn’t. “I don’t even know where to begin. The audacity, the _nerve_ you have to come here and…”

“Annie. Remember, we want to talk about how we feel. Say, ‘I feel.’”

“Okay. ‘I feel’ that you’re an idiot,” Annie snaps.

Duncan looks genuinely wounded. “See, now that’s just hurtful.”

“Ladies, if I may. I think we’re all a little on edge here,” Jeff says diplomatically.

“I’m not. I’m fine,” Annie insists. “I’m as cool as a cucumber. Totally chill.” She does not sound like she’s any of those things.

“It doesn’t seem like you are,” Britta notes.

“I’m being sarcastic!” Annie yells.

“I thought we said sarcasm wasn’t allowed,” Anthony says. Everyone stares at him, having collectively forgotten he was in the room. “What? Am I not allowed to talk?”

“Mom, why are you even here? I was perfectly content letting you pretend I don’t exist. Why the sudden interest after five years?”

“Annie, you have made it perfectly clear that you are determined to devote your life to mediocrity,” Ruth explains as though it is an objective statement of fact rather than her opinion. “I’ve accepted this. I can work with it. Now that you’ve _finally_ grown into your looks, you shouldn’t have any difficulty attracting a suitable husband, one who is willing to look past your other inadequacies. With an ironclad prenup, you can secure yourself a comfortable life for yourself and your children. However, this man,” she says, pointing to Jeff, “is not a suitable husband.”

“Wow. The Fifties called. They’d like their repressive social norms back,” Britta quips.

“Britta, perhaps you should let me do the talking here. Fly on the wall, remember?” Duncan reminds her.

“I’m simply being pragmatic,” Ruth explains. “You of all people should understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Britta frowns.

“Britta,” Annie warns. “Don’t take the bait.”

The warning is too late. “Your particular brand of performative fourth-wave feminism isn’t exactly winning over a lot of hearts and minds my dear, nor is it helping you age particularly gracefully,” Ruth explains.

“Oh yeah? Well, your face is…mean…face…” Britta splutters.

“Are you always this eloquent?”

“Okay, now that was definitely sarcasm,” Duncan says.

“Is it just me, or does it seem like this isn’t a very productive conversation?” Jeff asks rhetorically.

“Perhaps we should take a break. Meet here in five minutes?”

“Very well,” Ruth says coolly.

“Fine,” Annie says, less coolly.

“Sure,” Jeff agrees.

“Okay,” Britta adds, as if her opinion matters.

“Marvelous,” Duncan says. “See? You all can agree on something.”

“I have to poop.”

Everyone stares at Anthony. Ruth pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs.

“Okay. Let’s make it ten minutes then.”

* * *

Meanwhile, the rest of the Save Greendale Committee, including Frankie, sit around the study table looking a little bored. Troy and Abed are seated at their corner of the table, discussing what movie they should watch tonight. Pierce is drifting in and out of consciousness, since it’s late in the afternoon and he hasn’t had a nap yet. Shirley is knitting, because isn’t not like anything else is happening and Frankie is perusing Annie’s notes, trying to find a suitable task for the group to tackle in her absence.

“I don’t suppose anyone would like to discuss the next order of business, would they?” Frankie asks. After her ill-fated coup of the committee, she had a hard time getting anyone to take her seriously, even with her serious face and serious voice.

As expected, the others mutter various versions of the word “No.”

“I know Annie put you in charge while she’s gone, and while you do have the same look and basic personality, the audience knows a Suspiciously Similar Substitute when they see one,” Abed adds. Abed

“I’m sorry, what audience?” Frankie asks.

“Just go with it,” Troy shrugs. Abed’s meta. What’s so hard to understand?

“I’m confused.”

“Abed thinks life is a TV show. Keep up not-Annie,” Shirley scoffs, not bothering to look up from the scarf she’s knitting. At least, she hopes it’s a scarf. It might end up becoming a sock.

“That’s an oversimplification,” Abed complains.

“Works for me,” Pierce chimes. “What are we talking about?”

Frankie frowns. “I understand that Annie and I have some similarities, but it’s a little insulting to refer to me as ‘not-Annie.’”

“We could call you Old Annie,” Troy offers.

“That is not better.”

“Older Annie?”

“Frankie is fine.”

“Who’s Frankie?” Pierce asks.

“I’m Frankie!” Frankie says irritably.

“But you’re a woman.”

Frankie considers explaining this to Pierce, _again_ , but decides to forgo it for the moment. “Moving on. Our next order of business is the asbestos contamination in Study Room F.” Her brow forrows. “Wait. Isn’t this Study Room F?”

“It is,” Shirley says nonchalantly.

Frankie’s eyes widen with fear. “We need to leave this room immediately,” she proclaims.

“Why?” Troy asks.

“Because of the asbestos.” The others stare at her blankly. “Asbestos exposure is the primary cause of mesothelioma.” The blank stares continue. “A particularly aggressive form of cancer. I feel like I shouldn’t have to explain this,” Frankie says indignantly.

“We’ve been hanging out in this room for years,” Pierce shrugs.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure if we had butt cancer, we’d know it,” Troy says confidently.

“What?”

“Please ignore him,” Shirley sighs.

Frankie stands up. “I am leaving,” she declares. “All of you should follow me.” None of the others move. “I can’t help but notice that you’re not following me.”

The committee members mutter a variety of excuses.

“The damage is already done, right?” Shirley asks.

“We gotta go somehow. Carpet diem,” Pierce says cheerfully. No one bothers to correct him.

“The study room is important to us,” Abed explains. “We spend most of our time together as a group here. Where are we supposed to go? A bar? A coffee shop? An absurdly spacious, camera-friendly, New York City apartment?”

“You are all very strange people. You’re aware of that, right?” Frankie asks.

“It’s part of our charm.”

“Normal is overrated.”

“We know our audience.”

“Well, if anyone needs me, I’ll be in my office, which I sincerely hope is free of asbestos,” Frankie says in a defeated tone. “Please find another location to socialize, since it’s obvious you have no intention of getting any work done today.”

With that, Frankie departs, leaving the ship without a captain.

“What did I tell you?” Pierce gloats. “Worked like a charm.”

“What worked like a charm?” Troy asks.

“My ruse. The asbestos thing. To get whatshername to leave,” Pierce explains. It’s one thing to get bossed around by Annie. She’s earned that right. Frank, or whatever her name is, can’t hold a candle to Annie, in either brains or beauty. “She is pretty hot though,” he muses. “Hard to believe she used to be a dude. She should really change her name though. People less progressively minded than me might get the wrong idea.”

“Wait, what?” Troy asks, confused.

“That explains why the handwriting on this page is different. And riddled with spelling errors,” Abed observes as he looks through Annie’s notes.

“Pierce! You didn’t have to do that,” Shirley says indignantly. Granted, she and Frankie aren’t particularly close, but it is nice having another woman around occasionally, especially one that’s less forgiving of Pierce’s nonsense than Annie and Britta. “And for the record, Frankie is all woman. Not that it’s anyone’s business besides her and Jesus.”

“Wait, what!” Troy shouts, three times as confused. Surely Shirley wasn’t implying…

“Get your mind out of the gutter boy,” Shirley growled, throwing a ball of yarn at Troy. “She asked me for a tampon in the ladies’ room once.”

“That’s disappointing,” Abed mused. “We could use a little more diversity in that department. The only LGBTQ regular we have is the Dean, and he’s problematic to say the least. It would’ve made Frankie more interesting and distinguished her from Annie.”

“Frankie is kind of a buzzkill. She’s such a buzzkill it’s not even fun to make fun over her for being a buzzkill,” Troy says. “She’s like the Todd of Annies.”

“Todd of Annies,” Shirley repeats, giggling to herself. They really hate Todd.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Abed asks. “Now that our taskmaster is gone, there are endless possibilities.

“We could study,” Shirley suggests.

“No. / Why would we do that? / Do any of us even have a class together?” Troy, Abed, and Pierce reply over each other.

“Okay. Okay. Just a suggestion.”

“We could play a game. We could play Dungeons and Dragons!” Troy says excitedly.

Abed shakes his head. “We fall back on D&D a lot. At a certain point it’s just lazy. Plus, there are only four of us. A party of three is too small for a good game.”

“Well, what do you suggest Ay-bed?”

“I don’t know. But we have to think of something. We’re at risk of getting stuck in a B plot again while Jeff and Annie get the emotionally intense A plot that the audience is actually invested in. This has basically been the Jeff and Annie show for almost a whole season now, and if we don’t do something about it, we’re going to wind up getting stuck as supporting characters.”

“I’ve got an idea!” Pierce beams.

“Lord, have mercy,” Shirley mutters.

“It’s a game we can play. I saw it in the library. It’s a classic from greatest decade of interactive gaming,” he explains.

“Is it Pong? Or Pac-Man? Or Ms. Pac-Man?” Troy guesses. “What? Those are the only old people video games I know.”

“It’s not a video game. It’s even better. It’s an interactive video board game,” Pierce explains with a satisfied smile.

Abed sighs. “I feel like we’re backing the wrong conceptual horse here, but sure, let’s go with it. What’s the game called?”

“ _Pile of Bullets_.”

* * *

“Wow,” Jeff says numbly. He and Annie managed to find an empty classroom so they can regroup in peace and privacy.

“Right?” Annie replies wearily. _Finally_ , someone gets it.

“That was…”

“She is…”

“Intense.”

“Psychotic.”

“Ruthless.”

“Evil.”

“She’d make a good lawyer,” Jeff muses. Annie’s stories didn’t quite do the woman justice.

Annie frowns. Jeff almost sounds like he _admires_ her. “Weird take, but okay,” she says skeptically.

“I’m just saying, she had us all on the defensive from the very beginning, myself included. I think we’re going to need to rethink our strategy here.”

“What strategy? Why are we even still talking to her?”

“Because she’s your mom. And she chose to come here. That means something.”

“It _means_ she’s trying to take over my life.”

Jeff shakes his head. “She doesn’t have that kind of power over you anymore and she knows it,” he insists. “This is about something else.”

“She had no right to come here,” Annie says. She is so angry. Angry at her mother, angry at Jeff for being way too calm and reasonable about this whole thing, and mostly angry at herself for letting her mother get to her like this after all these years. “I was fine. I was happy! I have you. I have my friends. I have Greendale. I don’t need her.”

God dammit. She swore Ruth Edison would never make her cry again.

“Look, I know it’s not the same,” Jeff says gently as he wraps his arms around her, letting her sob into his chest, “but I would have given a kidney for my dad to show up. Instead, I had to track him down in order to get something resembling closure. Your mom showed up. And I know you don’t need her, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want her. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I don’t _want_ to want her. I should _hate_ her.”

“If you want to walk away, I’ll support you,” Jeff murmurs, pressing a loving kiss to her forehead. “I just don’t want you to regret not talking to her. Thanksgiving with my dad _sucked_ , but it was worth it.”

Annie sighs into Jeff’s chest, then takes a step back so she can look up at him. “What did you mean when you said we should rethink our strategy?” she asks.

“We should divide and conquer. Your mom was right about one thing. There are too many people in that room,” Jeff explains. “I think we should split up and tackle your family separately. I’ll talk to your mom and you can talk to your brother.”

Annie glares at him as though he just declared that Pierce is an actual genius. “That is a _terrible_ idea,” she says after a beat.

“I appreciate the constructive criticism,” Jeff says sarcastically.

“I’m sorry. It’s just, you don’t know her like I do. Mom has a way of getting inside your head, making you question everything you think you know. Make you doubt everything, to the point where you don’t even trust your own feelings.”

“That’s called gaslighting,” Jeff says quietly. Annie gives him curious look. “What? I pay attention to Britta sometimes.”

“I just don’t want her to hurt you.”

Jeff is both touched and insulted. “It’s sweet, but a little emasculating of you to worry about me like that,” he replies.

“She used to do it to my dad.” Annie explains. She realizes her mistake a second too late. She and Jeff both look at each other in horror. “ _Not_ that I’m comparing you to my dad. Ugh, you see? She’s already doing it, and she’s not even in the room!”

Jeff, in a rare show of restraint and maturity, decides to skip right past the dad talk and put that exchange in the little box in the self-hating portion of his mind marked _Reasons Why You’re A Creep_. “Look, what if you talk to your mom and I talk to your brother? He seems like he’s a man of few words, but maybe I can find a way to bond with him. Get him on our side.”

Annie frowns. “But then I’ll have to talk to my mom.”

“True.”

“I don’t want to talk to my mom.”

“Okay, then I’ll talk to your mom,” Jeff replies, trying not to get frustrated.

Annie shakes her head. “No, that doesn’t work either.”

“Annie.”

“Fine,” Annie sighs. “Let’s ‘divide and conquer.’ You take Mom. I’ll take Anthony.”

“What do we do with Duncan and Britta?” Jeff asks.

“You should take Duncan. I don’t think Britta can handle my mom,” Annie replies. An apt observation on her part.

“Agreed.” Privately, Jeff hopes that Duncan hasn’t refilled his flask during the break. Then again, he can’t fault the man for wanting a little liquid courage to deal with Ruth Edison. Jeff could use a drink himself.

Of course, Ruth would smell the booze on his breath and judge him for it.

God, is this what it’s like to be Annie?

“Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“She’ll make you doubt yourself,” Annie says quietly. She sounds so small, like she doesn’t know her own voice. But she finds it again, and when she starts speaking again, she sounds stronger. “She’ll get under your skin, make you second-guess every decision you’ve ever made. She thinks you’re wrong for me, and she’ll try to make you think it too. Don’t let her.” Annie strokes Jeff’s cheek, kissing him softly, but with all the love she can muster. “I love you. All of you. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” Jeff nods. He kisses her back. It’s quick kiss, chaste, but loving. “I love you too.”

Together, hand in hand, they return to Duncan’s office.

“Annie,” Ruth says with feigned surprise. “So nice of you to join us. I was worried you discovered that you had somewhere else to be.”

“Mom, we’ve made a decision. We’d like to speak with you separately,” Annie says firmly.

“Excellent. I was hoping just the two of us could talk.”

“Actually, I’d like to speak with you first,” Jeff interjects. “With Duncan. If that’s alright.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Duncan says, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Anthony, this will give us a chance to catch up,” Annie says in her big sister voice, which is a little rusty from lack of use. “And Britta, this way you’ll have a chance to get to know my brother.”

“Cool,” Britta says skeptically. “He seems like a cool…dude.”

“Even better.” Ruth smiles, but it’s more like she’s baring her teeth. She takes off her glasses. Her eyes flash with a predatory gleam. “It’s about time we were properly acquainted. We have a _lot_ to discuss.”

Jeff gulps. Ruth has _Annie’s_ eyes.

“In case anyone was wondering, it was a false alarm,” Anthony declares. “I just needed to fart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Matt and all the people on the Discord that beta'd in progress and generally motivated me to get this done!


	3. Act 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth gets in Jeff's head. Anthony drops some truth bombs on Annie. Pile of Bullets proves to be frustrating and confusing, just like real life.

Jeff and Ruth arrive at Duncan’s office at exactly the same time. He holds the door open for her like a proper gentleman, which she accepts with a polite smile. She still isn’t wearing her glasses and _did she do something to her hair?_ She looks even more like Annie than she did before.

Disconcerting.

Jeff isn’t laboring under the delusion that Jeff Winger™ charm is going to have any effect on Ruth Edison, but he defaults to it anyway out of force of habit and lack of a better plan. 

He reminds himself to avoid thinking of her as Annie’s mom. _Definitely_ don’t think of her as Annie’s evil older (but still sexy) twin. As far as he’s concerned, Ruth Edison is nothing more than a hostile witness. Who looks like Annie’s evil older (but still sexy) twin.

Crap.

Luckily, Jeff had a friend and ally in Ian Duncan. Well, friend might be a stretch, but Duncan is a former client and current sort-of co-worker, so he probably qualifies as an ally.

“Oh good. You’re back. I was beginning to worry,” Duncan says cheerfully as he struggles to screw the lid back onto his flask.

Though maybe not a reliable one.

“Really Ian?” Jeff asks through gritted teeth.

“Well, I suppose it’s five o’clock somewhere,” Ruth smirks.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me,” Duncan replies. He offers the flask to Jeff and Ruth.

“Don’t feel as though you need to abstain on my account,” Ruth says sardonically. 

“I’m fine, thanks.”

This is fine. He’s got this. Granted, he’s on his own now, but he’s got this. Hostile witness. Just another day in court.

“So, Mr. Winger. What would you like to talk about?” Ruth asks.

Jeff smiles. Time to break out the Winger charm and do a little damage control.

“Please. Call me Jeff,” Jeff says warmly, flashing her a toothy grin. “To answer your question, I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot here. I know you don’t get a second chance to make a first impression, but why don’t we give it a try anyway?”

“I’m sure my daughter told you all you need to know about me Mr. Winger,” Ruth replies coolly.

 _She might have left out a few details_ , Jeff notes as he looks into Annie’s, crap, _Ruth’s_ eyes.

This might be a problem.

“And I’m sure you’ve done enough research to form an opinion about me. Why don’t we indulge each other?” Jeff asks.

“Very well. Hamish, Hamish & Hamlin. That’s quite the prestigious law firm. I’m surprised you opted to strike out on your own instead of returning to such a lucrative position. Why go it alone?” Ruth asks.

The way she asked the question tells him she already knows the answer. A good lawyer never asks a witness a question if they don’t already know the answer.

“I didn’t want to be that kind of lawyer anymore,” Jeff replies evenly.

“The kind with upward mobility?” Ruth asks. A cheap, but predictable shot. Sloppy even. 

“The kind without a conscience. The kind a woman like Annie Edison wouldn’t waste her time on,” Jeff says proudly. Today isn’t about him after all. It’s about Annie.

“Well, it’s good to know she needn’t bother with a prenup I suppose,” Ruth says dismissively.

“My turn. You ghosted Annie for five years. Why?”

Ruth shrugs. “My daughter made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want me to be part of her life. I simply respected her wishes,” she says, like she’s the victim here.

“That’s not how she tells it.”

“Of course not. I’m sure Annie’s made me out to be quite the villain,” Ruth says shrewdly. “The heartless bitch that cast her poor, long-suffering daughter out into the cold, cruel world without a second thought. She can be very dramatic.”

_She said, dramatically._

“If the shoe fits,” Jeff replies coldly. As far as he’s concerned, that’s a perfect description of how this woman treated her own child. And he has no patience for any of her self-indulgent crap.

“My turn,” Ruth announces. “What exactly are your intentions toward my daughter?”

He expected some version of this question. “I intend to marry her.”

“Why?”

“Well, when two people love each other, sometimes they make a commitment to spend the rest of their lives together,” Jeff replies sarcastically. “To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. Any of that sound familiar?”

Ruth smiles mirthlessly. “I’ll be more specific. Is she pregnant?” she asks.

Jeff expected some version of that question too. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no,” he replies coldly.

“I just find it strange that a man pushing forty who hasn’t maintained a single lasting relationship with a member of the opposite sex would decide to marry a twenty-three-year-old girl,” Ruth muses.

“Woman,” Jeff corrects her. 

“You’ve known her since she was a teenager though, haven’t you? She was eighteen during your little debate performance, right? Barely out of high school. One might say you were _grooming_ her,” Ruth sneers.

Jeff knew that would come up. Honestly, if he was in her place, he’d have done something similar. Still, that particular insinuation catches him off-guard. 

_I practically imprinted on you,_ Ruth/Annie whispers in his head. _Like a lost little duckling led astray by a fox._

He shuts it down with some effort. The real Annie would never say anything like that to him. These are just his insecurities talking, and they don’t know crap.

“If you actually knew and cared about Annie, you know, like a _mother_ would, you would know she is far too strong-willed and in control of her life to ever allow anyone to do that,” Jeff says confidently.

Now it’s Ruth’s turn to get her feathers ruffled. “Do you have children, Mr. Winger?” she asks.

“No.”

“Then I’d say you are in no position to lecture me about how I raise mine.”

“You don’t know Annie,” Jeff presses. “You never did. And you’re missing out. She’s the most intelligent, driven, passionate, kind, and loving woman I’ve ever met.”

“It seems you’re quite taken with her,” Ruth replies. She seems unimpressed.

“I love her,” Jeff says simply.

“I’m sure you believe that,” Ruth says condescendingly.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not,” Jeff replies.

“What kind of life can you offer her? Your most valuable asset is a rapidly depreciating Lexus. No law firm with a shred of credibility would consider hiring you. By the time Annie is ready for children, you will be too old to look after them, assuming you don’t simply abandon your wife and children outright. It’s in your blood after all,” Ruth says venomously.

All of these things Jeff has said to himself, more times than he can count. But when Ruth says it, even though he knows better, God it feels like Annie’s the one saying it. Jeff’s heart is racing, and not in the fun way.

 _You’ll abandon me,_ Ruth/Annie whispers. _You’ll break my heart._

“Never gonna happen,” Jeff growls.

“It’s what men like you _do_ Mr. Winger. You find young, naive, vulnerable girls and you have your fun and then you move on,” Ruth explains. She says this with the casual confidence of one repeating a universally held truth, like _the sky is blue_ , or _men are monsters that crave young flesh._ “You can’t help yourself. If you had any decency at all, you would have stepped aside when Annie was involved with that young doctor. Rich, I believe? Wonderful man. Handsome, popular, affable, charitable, financially solvent. Think of the life she could have with a man like him.” _Better than mine._ And what kind of mother would want anything less for her daughter?

Jeff has thought of it. Hell, half the reason it took nearly four years for him to ask her out came down to his fixation on just how much better a woman like Annie Edison could do than a man like Jeff Winger.

“And to top it all off, you didn't even have the decency to stop screwing the blond bimbo while you were toying with my daughter's emotions.” Ruth continues. Jesus, how did she know about that? Did she have the study room _bugged?_ “And you still keep that slut on the hook to this day, just in case Annie finally comes to her senses and leaves you. You are a joke Mr. Winger. You are a sad, broken wreck of a man. You have my pity, you really do, but I cannot possibly in good conscience allow my daughter to marry you.”

And just like that, the spell is broken. Ruth overplayed her hand. After all, if there’s one thing the real Annie hates, it’s when people make decisions on her behalf without consulting her. Jeff learned not to make that mistake (again) a long time ago. Ruth did not.

“I may not have children, but as you so kindly pointed out, I know a crappy parent when I see one,” Jeff says with conviction. “You’re not in a position to ‘allow’ Annie to do anything. You lost any say you had in her life the moment you decided to quit being her mother.”

“You will _ruin_ her,” Ruth snarls. “If you really love Annie, you will let her go. Let her find someone that can give her the life she deserves.”

“You know, I used to think like that,” Jeff admits thoughtfully. “I wasted _years_ running away from how I felt about Annie because I was arrogant enough to believe that I knew what was best for her. And all that did was cause us both a lot of unnecessary pain. You might think you know what she deserves, but Annie knows what she wants. And neither one of us has any right to tell her otherwise.”

“I just want what’s best for my daughter,” Ruth insists.

“I’m sure you believe that,” Jeff replies.

At the moment, Annie’s mother looks a lot less like Annie and a lot more like the miserable, angry, lonely woman she actually is. Under different circumstances, Jeff might feel sorry for her. Under the current circumstances however, Ruth Edison can go to hell.

“I feel like I should probably say something,” Duncan chimes in with a drunken slur, “but honestly I am way out of my depth here.” It startles Jeff and Ruth, who honestly forgot he was there.

* * *

Britta isn’t sure what to make of Annie’s little brother. Dude looks like he’s at least thirty for starters. He’s also got this brooding air of mystery about him, like a Viking warrior. It’s kind of hot.

Which is gross. The kid just got out of high school. She’s not _Jeff_ for crying out loud.

“So, Anthony, how have you been?” Annie asks in a chipper tone. “It’s been a while.” They’re seated in an empty classroom near Professor Duncan’s office. Being Chairwoman of the Save Greendale Committee has its benefits, including her own set of keys.

“I guess,” Anthony replies in a low monotone.

“What have you been up to?” Annie asks, which is basically the same question.

“Not much,” Anthony replies in the same disinterested monotone.

“You’re all grown up now,” Annie says. Britta is glad she’s not the only one that noticed. “Seems weird to call you my little brother. You’ve gotten so big! Do you work out? You look like you work out. You’ve got that whole lumberjack thing going for you.”

“You totally do,” Britta says way too eagerly and while twirling her hair. “I bet you’re a real hit with the ladies. Or the gentlemen. Whatever, I mean, whomever you’re into. No judgement.”

Annie shoots Britta an incredulous _Did you just hit on my brother?_ glare, which goes unnoticed. She considers reminding her thirty-three year old friend that her baby brother is only eighteen, but in light of the massive hypocrisy that would entail, she decides against it.

“Sure,” Anthony shrugs. He still sounds bored.

“Jeff, my fiancé, he works out a lot,” Annie explains, which earns an eye roll from Britta. “Maybe you guys could hit the gym together sometime? Get your male bonding on.”

“Maybe.”

“I think you’ll really like Jeff. You always wanted a brother,” Annie says, continuing to oversell the potential of her fiancé and her brother becoming friends. “It was so cute. He used to ask our dad if they could trade me in for a boy. Remember?”

“Not really.”

“We had fun though, didn’t we?” Annie continues, starting to suspect that this isn’t going very well, but not letting it deter her. “When we were kids, Anthony and I would play Time Machine. We would go, ‘Oh, no! We're in Barbarian times! Quick! Back to the time machine!’ And then we would run back to the...time machine.” Annie trails off, aware of how dorky this story makes them look. “It was way more fun than it sounds.”

“I guess you had to be there,” Britta says politely. 

“Yeah…” Annie says awkwardly. “So, Anthony? Where are you going to college?”

“University of Denver,” he replies, still in that same inscrutable monotone.

“That’s awesome! It’s a great school. I’m thinking about going to grad school there after I finish my degree at Greendale. We’re five years apart, so we never got to go to the same school at the same time,” Annie explains.

“Cool,” Anthony says indifferently.

Annie throws up her hands and mouths a silent _Help me!_ to Britta, who shrugs and returns with a silent _What am I supposed to do?_

“What’s your major?” Britta asks, defaulting to the most generic question one could ask a college student.

“How much longer do I have to be here?” Anthony asks impatiently.

“I don’t know,” Annie replies. “Mom and I haven’t talked in years. We have a lot to discuss.” She’s a little offended that Anthony is so eager to leave. This is the longest conversation they’ve had in years. Would it kill him to stick around for a while? 

“So this is about you and Mom?” Anthony asks.

“Well, yeah,” Annie replies. What part of that was unclear.

“Okay.”

“But we can talk too, right? We haven’t in a long time,” Annie says in her best _I miss you dummy_ tone. “We barely spoke last Passover. Pretty sure all we said to each other was, ‘Can you pass the brisket?’ and ‘When are you graduating?’ and ‘Can you believe we’re already out of brisket?’”

“Yep.” Anthony is down to monosyllables now.

“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you Anthony?” Britta asks.

“Sure.”

“I like that. Gives you an air of mystery. You have a certain je ne sais quois,” Britta says coyly in a poor facsimile of French. She doesn’t know what that means, but one of her anarchist friends used to say it all the time and it sounded like a compliment.

Annie shoots Britta an angry glare accompanied by a silent, but emphatic _What is wrong with you?_

Annie turns back to Anthony once she’s convinced Britta has been appropriately chastised. “Sorry this is so weird. You know how things are with Mom,” she explains. “It’s like this dark cloud hanging over our heads.”

“If you say so.”

“I got to say, you guys don’t look that much alike. It’s hard to believe you’re brother and sister. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were total strangers,” Britta says, mostly because she feels the compulsive need to fill the awkward silence with the sound of her own voice. “Not that you act like you’re strangers.” A lie. “I’m sure you guys are very close.” A bigger lie.

“Not really.” True.

Annie sighs. “I guess there are some unresolved issues between us,” she admits. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“If you want,” Anthony says with a shrug.

“Okay. I’ll start,” Annie replies. Honestly, she was prepared to let Anthony off the hook in light of her issues with their mother, but if Anthony insisted on talking about it, she was willing to indulge him. “I'm still really hurt by Mom turning her back on me when I went to rehab. And I guess part of me was mad at you for siding with her.”

“Wow,” Anthony says curtly. Again with the monosyllables.

“It was a long time ago,” Annie says magnanimously. “I forgive you. I’d like for us to be friends again. Wouldn’t you?”

Anthony looks at his clueless sister for a moment before coming to a decision. “Pass,” he says bluntly.

Annie gasps indignantly. “Pass?” she asks incredulously. “I tell you ‘I forgive you’ and all you have to say is ‘Pass.?’ What the hell Anthony?”

Anthony decides to display an emotion for the first time all day. He chooses anger. “You forgive me? Screw you,” he says bitterly. “What did I have to do with mom?”

“You could have stood up for me,” Annie says, like it’s obvious.

“I was thirteen! What was I supposed to do?” Anthony says, like it’s equally obvious.

“I don’t know. Something! Something besides stand by while our mother cut me out of your life,” Annie insists.

“Mom didn’t cut you off. You did that.”

“See! This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re still taking her side!” Annie shouts.

“How hard did you try to keep in touch with me?” Anthony demands. “You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You barely even spoke to me.”

Okay, yes, technically that’s true, but there were extenuating circumstances. They only really saw each other during the holidays, and Annie and her mother had an unspoken rule to time their arrivals and departures at family events to ensure minimal overlap. It’s not like Yom Kippur is a chatty holiday.

“I was trying to put my life back together,” Annie insists. “I was living above a marital aid store.”

“Just say sex shop,” Britta interjects. Annie ignores her.

“I had NA meetings and classes and a study group. I had no money and barely any free time.”

“So in the last five years, you didn’t have time to call or text me?” Anthony asks shrewdly.

“It is weird that you never even mentioned him,” Britta notes unhelpfully. Britta is good at being unhelpful.

“Not helping Britta,” Annie whispers irritably.

“Do you have any idea what it was like being Little Annie Adderall’s brother?” Anthony asks. “You’re basically a cautionary tale at Riverside High. There are posters and everything.”

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Annie replies with Winger-like sarcasm. “That must have been _so_ hard for you. I didn’t realize what a _burden_ it was having me as a sister.”

“How would I know? I haven’t had a sister in _years_ ,” Anthony says bitterly.

“And whose fault is that? I don’t recall you picking up the phone and saying, ‘Hey Annie. Long time no see. Wanna hang out?’” Annie retorts with a passable Anthony imitation.

“I was a kid! I was an awkward, lonely, friendless, pathetic, loser, and my big sister, who cares _so much_ about me, couldn’t make time for a simple phone call.”

“Well, you’re not a kid anymore,” Annie says, lashing out angrily. "Grow up Anthony. Some of us weren’t given a choice.”

“Whatever.” Anthony rises from his chair to leave.

“Oh, sure. Run back to mommy,” Annie says mockingly. “Just like you always do.”

Anthony turns around and stares her down. When did he get so tall? "You know, you are just like Mom. And the worst part is you can’t even see it.” With that, he exits the classroom, leaving Annie in tears as she wonders if he was right.

* * *

“Dean-Dong. This is your captain speaking,” Dean Pelton announces cheerfully as he enters the study room pushing a TV cart while dressed as a sexy stewardess. Make that flight attendant. He wouldn’t want to offend anyone. “Your in-flight movie this afternoon will be...you know, I’m not actually sure. It’s been a long time since anyone asked for a VCR. You know, we do have a DVD player.”

“We’re going old school today Dean,” Abed says, giving him finger guns to prepare for his next bit.

“What Ay-bed means is we’re playing a classic game from a by-gone era,” Pierce explains.

“How fun!” Craig beams. “Can I play?”

Troy has an excuse in the chamber. “We already have an even number of players,” he says apologetically.

“That’s disappointing. Where’s Jeffrey?” Craig asks enthusiastically. “And Annie and Britta.” He’s less enthusiastic about them.

“They’re busy making A Very Special Episode while the rest of us are stuck in this B plot,” Abed says irritably. “I warned you.”

“He knows this isn’t a TV show, right?” the Dean asks delicately. Greendale’s only mental healthcare professional is currently indisposed and also woefully unsuited to handling whatever Abed’s deal is.

“He does,” Troy reassures him. “He’s just sulking.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Like a moody teenager,” Shirley confirms. “To answer your question, Jeff and Annie and _Britta_ for some reason are doing family therapy with Annie’s mother.”

“Oh my. I wondered what Ruth was doing here,” Craig says. Personally he was hoping Jeffrey and Annie were doing couple’s therapy with Duncan, which would mean the inevitable end of their relationship and leave Craig to pick up the pieces of Jeffrey’s broken heart, but that’s neither here nor there.

“You know Annie’s mom?” Troy asks. Until last week, Ruth Edison was like the Boogeyman, only scarier because she’s definitely real instead of only probably real.

“Of course! Lovely woman. We have lunch once a week. It’s so nice when parents are involved in their children’s education.”

“And by involved, you mean…” Shirley asks with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, Ruth is just full of questions,” the Dean beans. “‘What’s Annie’s major?’ ‘What’s her GPA?’ ‘Where does she work?’ ‘Where does she live?’ ‘What’s her boyfriend like?’ ‘Do you think he’s really going to marry her or is he running away from his feelings for a certain special Dean, I mean friend?’” He might have embellished that last part. “Between you and me, I think Ruth and Annie might be estranged,” he stage-whispers.

“I’m not sure what to do with this information,” Abed deadpans.

“Well, I don’t want to be a fifth wheel, so I’ll leave you to your game. Have fun!” Craig says cheerfully as he saunters away.

“Okay, I feel like I should remind everyone that Annie likes the Dean,” Shirley says sweetly. “Which means we are not going to tell her about this,” she adds in her low voice. Granted, the Dean isn’t smart enough to have knowingly conspired with Ruth Edison, but given Annie’s feelings about her mother, learning that he was her unwitting pawn is bound to earn him the cold shoulder regardless.

“Yup,” Troy agrees.

“Agreed,” Abed nods.

“Tell who about what?” Pierce asks. He was busy fiddling with the VCR and wasn’t paying attention.

“Why don’t you explain how this game works?” Troy asks. There’s an assortment of tokens, pieces, cards, fake bullets, and what looks suspiciously like real bullets in the box.

“Great idea! Strap on people,” Pierce says gleeful,

“You mean strap in.”

“What did I say?”

“Nope. Don’t you dare,” Shirley warns before Troy can repeat Pierce’s Freudian slip.

“We should probably decide teams first,” Abed points out. Fortunately there are only four of them, which means there are only three possible pairings, which simplifies things.

“Right. Well, since I’m a veteran gunslinger, I’ll take the dead weight, and Ay-bed, you can have the other one,” Pierce replies.

“Which one of us is dead weight?” Shirley demands. Pierce ignores her.

“Where did you get that cowboy hat?” Abed asks, referencing the cowboy hat Pierce put on when the others were distracted by the Dean.

“And why does it look _exactly_ like Jeff’s cowboy hat? You know, from Halloween? And paintball?” Troy asks.

“Not important,” Pierce says dismissively. It’s not like he’s imitating Jeffrey. If anything, Jeffrey is retroactively imitating him. “Here we go,” he continues as he presses play on the VCR.

“Each player starts with six bullet tokens, ten gold certificates, and a color-coded posse token,” the cowboy on the TV explains. Or rather, was in the middle of explaining.

“Pierce! You forgot to rewind the tape,” Shirley complains.

“Shhh!” Pierce shushes her.

“Do not shush me!”

“Shhh!” Troy and Abed double down on the shushing.

“Howdy!” the TV cowboy announces over old-timey harmonica music. “You look like a real group of gunslingers. Everyone in town's mighty scared, what with all the gold and the outlaws. But only one of us can make it out alive.”

“I’m confused. Are we robbing the town?” Shirley asks.

“No, we’re protecting the town from the robbers,” Pierce explains. 

“Pretty sure Shirley’s the dead weight,” Abed whispers to Troy, though not quietly enough to go unnoticed by Shirley’s Mom Ears.

“By now, you should have your bullets, your gold, and two Wild West tokens each. Hang onto those tokens no matter what,” discount Roy Rogers explains from the television.

“Two total or two of each kind?” Troy asks, more confused than usual. “Go back. Rewind.”

“Absolutely not. You’ll break the illusion,” Pierce says with jazz hands.

“He’s right. I’m riveted,” Abed replies

“He’s being sarcastic, right?” Shirley asks, assuming Troy will translate.

“I have no idea.”

“Now when you hear the word ‘draw,’ or when you see a square with a color or number matching one of you or your opponent's cards, the first one of you to say, ‘bang,’ wins the challenged player's token and the amount of their bid in gold!” budget John Wayne announces enthusiastically.

“So we just say ‘bang’?” Troy asks.

“Hah! Sucker. You just wasted a bullet,” Pierce boasts.

“By saying bang?”

“And you just wasted another. Shirley, I apologize. Clearly you are not the dead weight here.”

Troy trains his finger guns squarely at Pierce. “Bang! Bang, bang, bang!” he shouts.

“And now you’re out,” Pierce says smugly.

“Worth it,” Troy retorts.

“Collect your tokens and let's get on to the next round!” the TV declares. Stuff was happening while Troy and Pierce were dueling.

“Which tokens?” Abed asks.

“He can’t hear you Ay-bed. It’s a recording.”

“Draw!”

“Bang!” everyone shouts.

“Odd-numbered players, give up two cards!” sad sack Clint Eastwood shouts.

“Since when do we have numbers?” Shirley demands.

“I’m glad I didn’t invite Rachel to this,” Abed mutters.

* * *

Annie finds Jeff in his office. “Hey you,” she says, knocking softly on the open door frame. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, I’ve had better days,” Jeff replies with a wince. “You?”

“Same,” Annie sighs. She wasn’t expecting to be the villain today, but from a certain point of view… “I don’t think I’ve been a very good sister,” she admits sadly. “I was so focused on being angry at Mom. I didn’t even think about what this was doing to Anthony.”

“You were just a kid Annie,” Jeff insists.

“So was he.”

Jeff shakes his head. He is not going to let Annie blame herself for this. “You’re not his mother.”

“I know,” Annie says. “But he still needed me. And I let him down.”

“Ruth put you in an impossible situation. None of this is your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” Annie says firmly. She knows Jeff means well, but she won’t let him let her off the hook for this. “I’m still responsible for my own actions. I could’ve reached out, and I didn’t. That’s on me Jeff.”

Jeff nods. He gets that. He also makes a mental note to reach out to Willy Jr. That poor kid needs all the help he can get. “What do you want to do?” Jeff asks.

“About Anthony? I don’t know,” Annie sighs. “But I think I’m ready to talk to Mom now.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jeff offers. 

“Thanks.”

“Before you go see your mom, I should warn you. Duncan was pretty much useless. And drunk. So, basically an average day for him,” Jeff explains.

“I figured as much,” Annie shrugs. “Britta was...Britta.”

“That bad, huh?”

“She tried. Which made it worse, but her heart’s in the right place. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Jeff finds himself overwhelmed with the desire to kiss the woman he loves. Maybe it’s because he spent the last half an hour on the verge of a nervous breakdown, maybe it’s because of how ridiculously beautiful it is, or maybe it’s because of her unfailing ability to see the good in people, but he can’t not kiss her. So he does, urgently, almost desperately.

“What was that for?” Annie asks, flustered, but pleasantly surprised.

“I just...needed to.”

Annie nods. She warned him that Ruth would take a mallet to his insecurities in a demented game of mental whack a mole, but nothing could really prepare him for it. She pulls him into a long hug, letting him relax into her with his whole body, almost supporting his weight.

“It was pretty rough in there, huh?”

“I won’t pretend I know what it’s like having Ruth Edison’s voice in your head for your whole life,” Jeff says wearily, “but listening to her point out all that crappy stuff I’ve ever thought about myself when I’m with you...I gotta say, not the most pleasant way to spend an afternoon. One star, do not recommend.”

“I love you,” Annie says with conviction. “All of you.”

“I know,” Jeff nods. He can see it in her eyes. “I love you too.”

“Okay. Here I go,” Annie says. She doesn’t move. “This is me, going.” She still doesn’t move.

“Annie, you’ve got this,” Jeff says confidently. “While I have no doubt she’s just as awful as she ever was, you are more awesome now than you’ve ever been. She doesn’t stand a chance.”

Annie smiles. Knowing Jeff Winger believes in her means everything. “Thanks Jeff. Kiss for luck?”

“Like you had to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Team Discord, especially Amrywiol, jeffwik, and Matt who helped make this so much better than it would have been without their incredible feedback.


	4. Act 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Edison women settle the score. Jeff makes a deal. Everyone else accomplishes very little.

There are a lot of things that happen at Greendale Community College that don’t make a whole lot of sense at first glance. But there’s a method to the madness. It has structure, rules, and logic, even if it isn’t readily apparent to people who don’t _get_ Greendale. But _Pile of Bullets_ is just...stupid. It shouldn’t exist. It’s dumb and they’re all dumb for playing it.

“Blackhat Bill sure ain't the forgivin' type,” not Wyatt Earp announces from the aged television set. “You! Green player!”

“Yes, partner?” Shirley replies, assuming she’s the green player. She isn’t.

“You can do better than that, can't you?” Pierce implores her. It’s no fun if you don’t commit.

“Yes, _pard-ner_ ,” she repeats sarcastically with an exaggerated drawl.

“Pick another player that you want to draw a cactus card,” the TV explains.

“I choose Troy! Troy, draw a card,” Abed exclaims. It’s not his turn, but Troy and Shirley don’t understand the game well enough to notice or care (it’s actually Troy’s turn) and Pierce is just happy they’re having fun (they aren’t).

“Is this a good one?” Troy asks, looking at a card with a knife on it.

“Keep it for when you're in a quick draw,” Abed replies. He understands the game better than Troy and Shirley, which isn’t saying much.

“How do I know when I’m in a quick draw?”

“When you hear the word…”

“Draw!” Pierce shouts.

“Bang!” Troy says on reflex, finger-gunning Pierce.

“Ha!” Pierce chortles. “Simon didn’t say.”

“When the TV says draw,” Shirley says irritably. She’d be more patient with him if this wasn’t the third time he fell for that. “Pay attention Troy!”

“I’m really going to need you to stop wasting bullets,” Abed insists.

“Sorry.”

Abed shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It’s cool. Cool, cool, cool.” He and Troy double-five.

“Shirley, it’s your turn,” Pierce says, handing her the dice.

“What do I do?” she asks.

“Roll. Roll!” Pierce says eagerly.

Shirley rolls a pair of ones, which makes Abed uncomfortable for some reason. “Ooh, snake eyes! That’s something, right?”

“Snake bite,” Abed says after quickly checking the rule book. “You lose a turn.”

“How can something be boring and stressful at the same time?” Troy complains.

“Just wait until you have kids.”

“You remember we all go to community college, right?”

“Draw!” This time it really is the TV.

“Bang!”

* * *

Annie’s mother looks as carefully composed as she did when she first arrived, which feels like hours ago, but was really more like ten minutes ago. She let her hair down and took off her glasses, _no doubt to get in Jeff’s head_ , Annie notes, but she seems as calm and collected as ever.

“Hi Mom,” Annie says bluntly.

“Annie! How kind of you to join us,” Ruth says in that _how dare you make me wait on you_ tone. How? How can this woman say something that is, on paper, perfectly pleasant, yet still makes her feel two inches tall?

“It’s a trap!” Professor Duncan says as he raises his head up off of his desk. “Get out while you still can.” He knocks over his flask as he makes a clumsy sweeping warning gesture. Fortunately, the flask is already empty. 

“Professor Duncan, I think we’re good here. Do you mind if I speak with my mother privately?” Annie asks politely.

Duncan looks horror-struck. “Good God, there’s two of you. Back devil women! The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!”

Annie expects this kind of offensive nonsense from Pierce, but Professor Duncan is a _teacher._ “You do know we’re Jewish, right?” she asks.

“I did not. Very well. I surrender,” Drunken Duncan slurs. He rips open his shirt, which would be a sexy move from Jeff, but is a decidedly less sexy move from a pasty, lanky drunk. “Do what you will with me.”

“Please leave!” Annie insists, stomping her foot for emphasis.

“But this is my office.”

“Get out!” Annie and Ruth shout in unison. They share a brief look, surprised to find themselves on the same team for the first time in forever, however briefly.

“Fine! But I’ll have you know, the two of you could have had some fairly disappointing sex with me.” Gross. “But now it is off the table.” Finally, Duncan stumbles out of the room.

“That may be the worst psychologist I have ever met,” Ruth notes wryly.

“I can’t believe I volunteered to be his research assistant. It was freshman year,” Annie explains. “He was less drunk and creepy back then.” To be fair, he was a bit of a creepy drunk, even back then, but he’s gotten so much worse. Annie makes a mental note to pick up an AA flyer for him at her next NA meeting.

“Very reassuring. I can only hope the rest of your teachers are such consummate professionals,” Ruth says sarcastically.

Annie sighs. No sense delaying the inevitable. “So, I guess we’re doing this,” she says wearily. 

“We’re just talking, Annie. No need to be dramatic.”

“Fine. Talk.”

“Fine. Everything I did, I did for you Annie,” Ruth begins. “I pushed you, and you were better for it. I gave you discipline, focus, motivation, and purpose. When you made mistakes, I cleaned them up. When you had your little accident, I put you back together.”

“‘Little accident?’” Annie says incredulously. “I had six reconstructive surgeries!” It’s something of a small miracle (or rather, a credit to a number of particularly skilled plastic surgeons) that her body isn’t covered in scars.

“Six awfully expensive reconstructive surgeries,” Ruth corrects her. “Then there were the lawyers, the police. You made a lot of messes Annie, but I cleaned them up without even so much as a thank you.” Not that Ruth needed a thank you. Any decent parent would do the same for their child after all. “And still, after all that, you could have gone anywhere you wanted. Harvard. Yale. Oxford.” _All you had to do was finish high school. And you were so close._ “But then you threw it all away, and for what? So you could putz around at some community college for five years?”

“I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished here,” Annie insists. Sure, a GED isn’t the same as a valedictorian's diploma, and almost a bachelor’s degree from Greendale Community College isn’t the same as a bachelor’s from Harvard, but it’s still an accomplishment.

“Why?” Ruth asks disdainfully. “This place, it’s a fantasy. It’s kindergarten for the arrested development set. Do you think anything you’ve done here matters in the real world? _Wake up Annie._ The world is...cruel, especially to women.” _I hope you never find out just how cruel._ “We have to work twice as hard for half as much and you can’t depend on anyone but yourself. I thought I’d taught you that much at least.”

Annie shakes her head angrily. “You’re wrong. For the first time in my life, I have friends I can rely on. People who value and respect me for who I am,” she insists.

“For now. But they’ll disappear on you. You’ll promise to talk every day, and you will at first. But then those daily phone calls will become weekly ‘sorry I missed you’ voicemails, and then maybe a card on your birthday,” Ruth says wistfully, speaking from experience. They all said they’d stay in touch, but when was the last time she heard from Cherry, or Carmen, or Rhonda, or Sheila, or...Sam...or... _Debbie_. Twenty years? Maybe more? “These things, they don’t last Annie. One by one, they all just fade away.”

“What happened to you that made you like this?” Annie asks. She knew her mother was relentlessly negative, but there’s a pain in her voice that seems new, or at least newly exposed. Maybe it was always there, but Annie simply wasn’t able to recognize it when she was younger.

“Experience,” Ruth says solemnly. It’s not really an answer, but she’s said too much already. She’s losing control of the conversation. This isn’t about the past. This is about bringing Annie _home._

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry your life didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to. I’m sorry Dad left us.”

“This is not about me and your father, Annie.”

“Everything is about you Mom!” Annie shouts. “It always has been. I went to rehab and somehow you found a way to make it about you!”

“You didn’t need rehab Annie,” Ruth says, disgusted. “Rehab is for junkies.”

“I was a junkie! I was a twitchy, miserable, pill-popping, junkie! I was really messed up Mom. I could have _died_ . I needed you. And you weren’t there for me,” Annie says through sobs. She doesn’t even try to fight back the tears. “You were never there for me. You just wanted to sweep it under the carpet because you didn’t want to deal with the shame of having a _drug addict_ for a daughter.”

“It was Adderall, Annie. It’s not like you were shooting heroin,” Ruth says sarcastically. It was perfectly legal after all. Prescribed by a doctor and everything. They were just pills. Perfectly safe. Granted, maybe Annie might have taken a few more than she should have, but it was nothing a little time away from her studies couldn’t fix. Lots of high performing students crack under the pressure of their academic commitments. She had just needed a little vacation and she would have been just fine. 

Right?

“You can’t do it,” Annie replies incredulously. “You can’t even acknowledge what happened to me, can you?”

Ruth sighs. Annie was just overreacting. She’d been fine. She was a little overwhelmed back then, between AP classes, student council, debate, cheerleading, and Campus Crusade for Christ (the last of which admittedly might have been overkill), but she was managing. Annie didn’t need help. Ruth had raised her to be strong and self-reliant. Annie didn’t need _rehab_ . She was fine. She was fine. She was _fine._ “I don’t have to listen to this,” Ruth mutters.

“Yes, you do. You are going to sit there, and you are going to listen for once in your life,” Annie commands.

“Fine,” Ruth sighs. She sinks back into her chair, suddenly feeling very tired. “I’m listening.” 

Annie never really expected to have a chance to tell her mother this story. Probably best to start at the beginning. “Back when I was in high school, I was really unhappy. I was constantly stressed out. I had no friends. My ‘boyfriend’ was just using me to avoid coming to terms with the fact that he was gay. I had no one. Except you. You, and the pills.

“The pills helped, at first. They let me focus, they shut out the voice in my head that said I wasn’t good enough, that I’d never be good enough.” _The voice that sounds just like you_ , she observes, but leaves unsaid. “But then they stopped working. So, I started taking more of them. I didn’t realize what I was doing at first. And by the time I did, I couldn’t stop. And then there was that party and everyone was laughing at me and I just...snapped.

“They call it rock bottom. And yeah, my story is pretty tame compared to a lot of the other stories I heard at NA meetings. But that’s what it was. And instead of supporting me, you abandoned me.”

“You needed tough love,” Ruth insists. 

Annie ignores her. “All of the sudden, I was alone,” she continues. “You weren’t speaking to me. I had no diploma, no scholarship, no plan, no future. But then I came across a flyer at this frozen yogurt shop at the mall. Greendale Community College, where you’re already accepted.”

“A nice sentiment, but it speaks to their standards, or lack thereof,” Ruth interjects, derisively.

Annie presses on without acknowledging the interruption. “I met six special people while I was there. People who were a little broken, like me. Troy Barnes, Abed Nadir, Shirley Bennett, Pierce Hawthorne, Britta Perry, and Jeff Winger. And over the years, they became my family.”

“You have a family Annie. _We’re_ your family.”

“Back in high school, I thought Troy was just this hot, dumb, arrogant jerk of a jock, but in reality he’s sweet and thoughtful and full of wonder. Abed is strange and off-putting to a lot of people, but he sees the world like nobody else does and he’s never afraid to say what he thinks. Troy and Abed took me in when I was living above a Dildopolis in downtown Murderville. They gave me home. And yeah, they’re a handful, but I love them.”

“I’m sure you’re very fond of…”

“Britta offered to plan my wedding, even though she thinks marriage is an ‘archaic patriarchal institution’ because she’s _weirdly_ good at it and she knows it’s important to me. She says the wrong thing constantly and she’s kind of a mess, but she’s passionate and fierce and I still look up to her. Shirley offered to make our wedding cake, because baking is how she shows love, and she has _so much_ love to give. She can be judgemental and condescending, but she’s wise and insightful too. Pierce asked if he could walk me down the aisle, since Dad probably won’t bother to show up. He’s more like an embarrassingly inappropriate uncle than a dad, but he’s _there_ for me in ways Dad never was.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that…”

“And Jeff? Jeff is my best friend,” Annie says softly. “There was this spark between us early on. Too early, really. We weren’t ready for it at first. But, we grew into those feelings instead of growing out of them. Things were complicated for a while, and we both made mistakes, but eventually we figured out how to be together. I wouldn’t trade anything for the life I have with Jeff. He loves me. He respects me. He _believes_ in me, even when I don’t believe in myself. You _never_ believed in me.”

Ruth, for once, is at a loss for words. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she says quietly.

“You don’t have to say anything Mom. You know, I used to imagine what I’d say to you if we ever spoke again. But now I realize that it doesn’t matter, does it? There’s nothing I could say to you to make you understand,” Annie says, acknowledging the truth of their situation. They’re at an impasse. It seems they always will be. “I’m going to community college. I’m getting married. I’m building a life for myself on my own terms. I wish you could respect the choices I’ve made and find a way to be happy for me, but I don’t need your permission or your approval.”

Ruth wonders for a moment if this is what it felt like for her mother when she moved to L.A. _You’re not very pretty and you can’t act to save your life. You’ll be back_. And Ruth did come back, eventually. But Annie… Annie isn’t coming back.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” Ruth admits. “When you were in rehab, when you moved into that godforsaken apartment, when you enrolled at Greendale. I thought about you every day.” Not that it matters now. “I thought that if I was patient and gave you your space, eventually you would come to your senses and come back to me, and live the life you were supposed to have. That’s never going to happen, is it?”

Ruth remembers the last time her heart was broken. It was the day she saw her little girl covered in bandages in the hospital. This time isn’t as bad. Annie will be fine. That’s the important thing. Annie will be fine.

“You should go Mom,” Annie says sadly. “You don’t belong here.”

* * *

“So...how do you think it’s going in there,” Jeff asks, gesturing toward the door to Duncan’s office. It had been closed ever since Duncan emerged from it, babbling something about twin succubi. Britta intercepted him, helping the staggering fool down the hallway, presumably to an empty classroom to sleep it off. Neither of them returned.

“Eh,” Anthony shrugs. Man of few words, that Anthony. Jeff can respect that.

“Weird day. Even by Greendale standards.”

“I guess.”

Anthony would probably be content to sit here in silence and let Jeff pretend to play on his phone, but he promised Annie he’d talk to Anthony, which will probably require some actual talking.

“You want to get a drink after this?” Jeff asks.

“I’m eighteen,” Anthony replies.

 _Holy crap_. Jeff thought Annie was referencing some inside joke he wasn’t privy to when she called Anthony her little brother. Dude looks like he’s thirty. “When was the last time you got carded?” Jeff asks, surprised and amused.

“Freshman year.” He sounds proud. Monotone proud, but proud.

“Nice.” Jeff offers a fist bump and is pleasantly surprised when Anthony reciprocates. This kid is alright. A little aloof, but he can work with that.

“Hey, is Britta single?” Anthony asks.

Jeff grins. Britta does seem to attract the interest of younger men. Troy, Anthony, Marcus (which _gross_ , and thank God she doesn’t know about that last one). “Why yes. Yes she is.”

“Cool.” Anthony considers his words for a moment. “Think you could set me up with her?”

Jeff considers the implications. He’s done worse for less certainly, but pimping out his friend seems like an Old Jeff move.

That being said:

  1. Anthony doesn't really have a shot with a woman like Britta, who is both way older and way hotter than he is, so what’s the harm really?
  2. ‘Setting Anthony up’ can be as simple as taking Anthony to the Vatican while Britta is working, which he was going to do anyway.
  3. Who knows? Maybe Anthony is Britta’s type. _Blade_ much? Britta has been into some pretty sketchy dudes, Old Jeff included, and Anthony is technically legal.



“That depends,” Jeff says shrewdly. “Think you can give your sister another chance?”

Anthony looks at Jeff curiously. He probably should’ve expected something like this. Dudes that are that into their appearance don’t do anything for free. Still, Britta is really hot. And even though Anthony is loathe to admit it, he does miss his big sister. “I can do that,” he agrees.

“Deal.” Jeff offers his hand. Anthony shakes it.

Jeff considers warning Britta, but he decides to surprise her instead. She’ll forgive him. Eventually.

* * *

“If one of you rolled your bullet number, you're the winner!”

Stupid TV cowboy. Troy, Shirley, and Abed all groan. How much longer can this go on?

“This game makes no sense!” Troy shouts in frustration.

“Fast-forward to the red screen to get your gold.”

“Team Hawthorne wins again!” Pierce proclaims happily. Technically he spoiled the ending, but he’s having too much fun to care.

“Great…” Shirley mutters sarcastically.

“Well, more food for the buzzards,” Diet Doc Holliday says. “Looks like modern times... have come after all. See ya in the city.”

“Well, this has been...something, but I think I wanna go home,” Troy says, slowly getting up from his chair.

Oh, c’mon. You’re doing so well. You almost won that time,” Pierce insists.

“I don’t know if this game has any winners, but it does have losers,” Abed says dryly.

“Fine. I just thought, I don’t know. Playing this game, it reminded me of when I used to play games with my step-kids,” Pierce says wistfully. Sometimes the others forget that he had this whole other life before Greendale. Families that came and went over the years. “We’d gather around the TV and play Pile of Bullets, Star Quest, Blacks Versus Whites. That last one might be considered a little offensive today.” 

“You think?” Shirley replies.

“Yeah. The kids hated those games too. It’s fine. I was just feeling nostalgic. I guess I’ll head back to my mansion. Alone. Maybe I’ll read a book or watch a movie. By myself. In that big, empty house.”

Yes, Pierce is being transparently manipulative, but Troy spent enough time with Pierce back when they lived together to appreciate just how lonely the old man is most of the time. Spending a little time with him won’t kill them.

He silently implores Shirley to play another round, using elaborate hand gestures, including finger guns and an exaggerated crying face. Shirley isn’t having it. Abed is confused.

“What’s happening? Did I miss a social cue? Are you guys using some kind of sign language?” Abed asks, slightly panicked.

Troy gives up on discretion and decides to go for the Hail Mary. “Why don’t we play one more game? I feel like Team Trobed has got your number, pard-ner,” he says in cowboy speak.

“But I don’t want to…” Abed starts.

“Yes, you do,” Troy says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, I do.”

Shirley could just leave. She could. But that would involve leaving three boys unsupervised. She briefly wonders if it’s too late to get Frankie back. “Fine,” she mutters eventually. “Better than cleanin’ up asbestos.”

“Fantastic!” Pierce says happily. He hits rewind on the tape, because that’s what you have to do with VHS, because it’s stupid. The others share a resigned look and prepare for the next round.

* * *

Annie looks a little worse for the wear as she emerges from Duncan’s office, but otherwise fine. Her eyes are still a little red, but her tears have dried and she feels, not _good_ per say, but she has something resembling closure now, and is better for it.

Ruth looks broken.

Jeff stands up quickly and rushes to Annie’s side. She leans into him, letting herself relax into his embrace, sighing into his chest as he wraps those strong, protective arms around her.

“You okay?” he asks gently.

“I’m okay,” Annie nods. “My mother was just leaving.” She smiles as Jeff places a soft kiss on her forehead.

Ruth looks at the couple curiously. That idiot dean and the rest of her sources in this toilet of a school never really explained what the two of them were like when they were together. She still has her doubts about this (formerly) disbarred high-functioning alcoholic lawyer that’s nearly twice Annie’s age. Still, there’s no denying that there’s love there. Maybe it’s enough.

“Do you know how I learned that the two of you were getting married?” Ruth asks.

“I don’t know Mom,” Annie replies wearily. “The newspaper?”

“Twitter,” Ruth says sadly. “I learned that my only daughter is getting married on Twitter.” From Troy Barnes, specifically. #anniesengagement. “And in the days that followed, I thought, maybe Annie will call. Or send an email. Or text. A letter perhaps? Maybe a postcard. _Something._ ” Ruth’s voice breaks at this. “But when I saw the announcement in the newspaper, my little girl, all grown up, announcing to the world that she intends to spend the rest of her life with you Jeff...that’s when I realized that I wasn’t going to get that phone call. And now I know that I had no right to expect it.”

“Mom…”

“You didn’t tell me you were getting married because you didn’t think I would care,” Ruth continues. “Because _I_ made you think that. For years, I made you think I didn’t care. You’re right. I don’t belong here.” If it’s an act, it’s a damn good one, because the tears are flowing freely. 

“I guess not,” Annie agrees. Part of her still wants to forgive her mother. Part of her still wants to believe it’s not too late. But it’s not really up to her.

Ruth Edison looks at her daughter. It’s so strange, trying to reconcile the awkward little girl she once knew with the confident young woman standing before her. An old memory comes to mind. “When you were a little girl, you used to bring home these broken, dirty, ragged toys. God knows where you found them. I tried to throw them away and you’d cry. I’d offer to buy you new toys if you’d throw the old ones away, but you refused,” Ruth says with an exasperated, but fond tone. Annie was such a strange girl. “You kept them and cleaned them and fixed them, and even the ones you couldn’t fix, you kept anyway. It drove me crazy. There was this kangaroo. Its leg was practically falling off. You begged Bubbe to teach you to sew so that you could fix it yourself.”

“Ruthie. Her name is Ruthie,” Annie says softly. “I still have her. She’s my favorite.” A bit odd perhaps to name something meant to give her comfort after someone that caused her so much pain, but it makes a sort of sense, all things considered.

“We are so much alike Annie, but that part of you, your capacity to see the good in broken things, in broken people…” Ruth thinks of Annie’s odd collection of misfit friends. She can’t fix them, but she kept them anyway. “I thought it was a weakness,” she admits. “I thought the world would break _you_. I was wrong. I don’t expect you to believe me, but I am sorry Annie. I’m truly sorry.”

It’s the first heartfelt apology Annie Edison ever received from her mother. _Ever._ It doesn’t fix everything of course, or anything really. 

“I believe you Mom,” Annie replies. Her cheeks are wet.

But it’s a _start._

“I wanted you to have more than me,” Ruth says regretfully. “I wanted you to have everything.”

“Did it ever occur to you to ask me what I want?” Annie asks.

It didn’t. But maybe it’s not too late. “What do you want Annie?”

“A lot of things,” Annie replies. “ I want to live in the same home for more than a year, order wine without feeling nervous, have a resume full of crazy mistakes instead of crazy lies. I want stories and wisdom, perspective. I wanna have so much behind me I'm not a slave to what's in front of me. I want to marry my best friend, to share a life well-lived with the man I love.” She shares a smile with him. “I want our children to have what _they_ want in life...even if I don’t understand it.”

“Well, I hope you get it,” Ruth says sincerely.

“What do you want Mom?” Annie asks.

It’s been a long time since anyone asked Ruth Edison that question. Unlike Annie, who has a fairly long (though entirely reasonable) list of heartfelt desires, Ruth only has one.

“I want to get to know you again. If you’ll let me,” Ruth says quietly. She’s aware she’s asking for more than she deserves, but she’ll take what she can get.

“How would that work, exactly?” Annie asks. She sounds skeptical, but receptive.

“We could have dinner.” Ruth offers.

“Dinner.”

“Once a week, perhaps. Friday night?” Always swing for the fences.

“Wait, what?” Jeff interjects. Friday night is date night. He likes date night. Date night includes steak, wine, deep conversation, dancing, and date night sex. Date night does not include Annie’s _mother._

“How about we start with once a month and see how it goes?” Annie replies. Better.

“How about every other Friday?” Ruth counters.

“At our place,” Annie insists.

“Your apartment?” Ruth asks with a frown. “But it’s so small.” Annie glares at her. “I’m sure it’s very cozy,” she says, backpedaling graciously. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“Jeff will cook,” Annie says, having grown accustomed to volunteering Jeff for things without consulting him. “And I’ll bake the challah.”

“Not even going to pretend I have a say in this, are you?” Jeff complains, not that it will do any damn good.

“Nope.,” Annie says sweetly. She doesn’t even have to bat her eyes at him anymore, but she does it anyway.

“Smart man,” Ruth notes. “Temple?”

“I’m not Jewish,” Jeff replies.

“Nobody’s perfect,” she shrugs.

“We’ll see,” Annie says. “Seven?”

“Works for me,” Ruth says with a genuine smile.

“Anthony, you’re welcome to come as well,” Annie offers. He’s been standing there the whole time, but hasn’t said anything. He’s good at that. “But don’t feel like you have to. It’s up to you. I’d like to get to know you again too, if that’s alright.”

Anthony remembers the deal he made with Jeff. “Okay. You guys ever play D&D?”

“We dabble,” Jeff says. Bit of an understatement.

“Our friend Abed is an incredible Dungeon Master,” Annie says enthusiastically, which is also a bit of an understatement.

“Cool.”

“Resolved?” Ruth asks hopefully.

“Resolved,” Annie nods. They’ve taken the first, tentative, terrifying step into a real relationship. And Annie is nothing if not optimistic.

“Should we hug?” Ruth asks.

Annie shakes her head. “I don’t think we’re there yet.”

“I understand.” Ruth pauses, unsure if she can say what she wants to say. She says it anyway. “I love you Annie.”

“I love you too Mom,” Annie replies. “See you Friday.”

Ruth and Anthony head down the hallway, albeit slowly. Her ankle bothers her from time to time due to an old wrestling injury. Today her limp affords her the opportunity to listen in on Annie and Jeff. She’s not _eavesdropping_ per say. She’s just being observant.

“Annie, quick sidebar,” Jeff says not quietly enough. “Did you just commit us to spending every other Friday night for the foreseeable future with your _mother?”_

Ruth doesn’t love his tone, but to be fair, it was a big ask.

“Ummm…” Annie murmurs.

“Annie,” Jeff says, leaving the _don’t think you can get away with this_ implied.

“Remember that you love me.”

“Uh huh.”

“And that I am totally going to make this up to you.” With sex, obviously. Not that this is an actual sacrifice on her part.

“Uh huh.”

“For example, I was able to find a Greendale cheerleading uniform,” Annie says. She was hoping to save that for a special occasion, but desperate times. “My old one from Riverside High doesn’t fit anymore. I was a late bloomer.” She looks down at her chest coyly, then flashes Jeff a sultry smirk when she sees him looking at her chest too.

“Go on,” Jeff says, suddenly very interested.

“Well, I still can’t do a basket toss, but I have plenty of other skills…”

Ruth wishes she could walk faster.

“You wanna take this back to our place, _milady_?” Jeff grins.

“Actually, I think I might have left something in your office, _milord_ ,” Annie replies with feigned innocence.

Ruth clears her throat loudly. “Still in the room,” she says. They don’t seem to notice.

“Technically we’re in the hallway,” Anthony points out.

“Keep walking Anthony,” Ruth growls. Fortunately, Jeff and Annie head in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, Anthony is still with her. “You know they’re gonna go do it in his office, right?” he asks.

Ruth pinches her nose. “Just go get the car Anthony.” She can feel a stress headache coming on.

“Just saying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the Discord team, especially Amrywiol, jeffwik, and An for their awesome suggestions.


	5. Outro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruth meets a fan. Pierce makes a friend. Abed discovers something wonderful.

There’s a lovely brunette limping by the parking lot as Pierce heads to his car. He’s nothing if not a consummate gentleman, so he decides to offer her a ride. In his car, that is. Although, if he plays his cards right...

“Need a lift?” Pierce offers.

The woman shakes her head. “No thank you,” she says. “My son is bringing the car around.” 

She looks awfully familiar. The face, the hair, that rockin’ body. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Pierce asks.

“No, but I believe you know my daughter. I’ve been told we bear a strong resemblance.”

“So, you’re Annie’s mom, huh?” He can see the resemblance, but that’s not where he recognizes her from. Vegas perhaps? “Pierce Hawthorne, at your service,” Pierce says, offering his hand.

“Ruth Edison.” She shakes his hand. So far, the man isn’t quite living up to his reputation as a sexist, racist idiot. Today has been full of surprises. “I’m sure my daughter has told you all about me.”

Pierce shrugs. “I like to form my own impressions. Kids…they think they know everything. But they can never really know us, can they? They only know what we show them.”

Definitely more perceptive than the other Greendale students gave him credit for. “You have children?” Ruth asks.

“Step-children. Ex-step-children actually. They can’t stand me. What can you do?” Pierce says with a sad shrug.

Ruth nods. “We have something in common then.”

“You’ll work it out. If there’s one thing I know about Annie, it’s that she always looks for the good in people, even if they don’t deserve it,” Pierce proclaims, having experienced this first-hand on multiple occasions. 

Ruth smiles fondly. “It’s nice to know that some things never change,” she says, glad that her daughter has people that appreciate her.

“Trust me. Annie’s come to see me as something of a father figure.” That seems like an overstatement, but Ruth doesn’t contradict him. “She’s a wonderful young woman. Always been my favorite.”

“She didn’t get it from me I’m afraid,” Ruth laments.

“Really? I’ve always thought of Annie as an intelligent, driven, confident, kind, and caring person,” Pierce says thoughtfully. “It seems like you check all of those boxes.”

“You don’t know me very well.”

“True. But I’m an excellent judge of character. Like daughter, like mother.”

Ruth chuckles. She can see why Annie likes him. “You are a very strange man Mr. Hawthorne.”

“Please. Mr. Hawthorne is my father’s name. He was a dick, but he’s dead now, so screw him,” Pierce says happily. “Call me Pierce.” He offers his hand again.

“Ruth.” She does the same, only this time he kisses it.  _ Smooth _ . Ruth has no intention of actually dating one of Annie’s friends, but a little flirting never hurt anyone.

“Annie tells me you’re divorced. Strange that you’d keep your ex’s name,” Pierce muses. “None of mine ever did.”

“Well, the bastard left me to raise two children on my own. I figure I should at least get to keep his name,” Ruth says bitterly. “That, and the name ‘Ruth Wilder’ has a complicated history.”

Pierce’s eyes light up. “Holy crap! You’re Zoya! Zoya the Destroya, right? Of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling!” he says eagerly, going from pleasantly charmed to full on fanboy within seconds. It’s been a long time since anyone was this happy to talk to Ruth Wilder. It’s nice. Really nice.

“Wow. It’s been a while since anyone recognized me from that,” Ruth chuckles. The memories of her time on GLOW were bittersweet, but it’s nice that someone remembers all the same. “Always nice to meet a fan.”

“You were great. You were always my favorite. I know, everyone loved Liberty Belle, but you were the real talent,” Pierce insists. “And you still look amazing, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Ruth straightens her back, balls her hands into fists and presses them into her hips, thrusts out her chest, and stares Pierce down with a contemptuous expression. “You are weak capitalist dog. I am noble Soviet bear!” she declares in a delightfully terrible Russian accent.

“Go back to Russia! This is the land of the free and the home of the brave!” Pierce shouts, committing to the bit.

“More like land of the lazy and home of the fat!”

“Booooo!” Pierce shouts, absolutely thrilled.

“Please. You love to hate me,” Ruth-as-Zoya replies mockingly. “All hail Zoya! Das vedanya America!”

Pierce cackles with glee. “Look at that. Still got it,” he beams.

“The Eighties were a crazy time,” Ruth says fondly. Crazy, but good.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Pierce says. On a whim, he decides to take a risk. He has no intention of actually dating Annie’s mother, but what’s the harm in making a new friend? “So, Ruth, do you have any plans for dinner?”

“I do now,” Ruth replies. She takes out her phone to call Anthony. “Anthony, it’s your mother. Why don’t you head home? No, I’m fine. I’ll be home later. Yes, you can play Dungeons and Dragons. How many people? I don’t know what that means. Uh huh. That’s fine. Just don’t burn the house down. I’m not sure, but don’t wait up. I love you. What? Yes, it’s really me! Oh good grief. Bye Anthony.” She shrugs apologetically, then puts her phone in her purse. “Kids. Am I right?”

Pierce offers his arm. “Shall we?”

Ruth takes it. “We shall.”

Abed watches them leave together without either of them noticing. He wasn’t  _ eavesdropping _ per say. He’s simply a student of human behavior. He looks up the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling on his phone, eager to learn what Pierce was so excited about. He finds a YouTube video titled simply,  _ GLOW. _

Nothing, not Kickpuncher, not Cougar Town, not even Inspector Spacetime could have prepared him for this. This is pageantry, action, comedy, drama, ambitious in tone, but grounded in it’s shoestring budget production quality. This is a cocaine-fueled high concept fever dream that could only be a product of the 1980’s. This is a soap opera in spandex.

“This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

And from Abed Nadir, that’s saying a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta readers and the Discord crowd once again. This took a lot longer than I intended, but real life writes the plot. Remedial Holiday Caroling is next in the pipe, so stay tuned! Comments are love, so please let me know what you think.


End file.
